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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27604234">could i have some tea with that sardonicism?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>green skulls and black smoke [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Lockwood &amp; Co. - Jonathan Stroud</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Dirty Jokes, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Ghosts, HAHAAHAHAHAH, Jealousy, Meant To Be, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Weird Fluff, bc this is skullyle come on, i am obssessed with lucy playing the violin jsnsjna, idk what to tag this honestly, let's be real here, lmaoo, the one where lucy is the ghost and skull is the human</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:27:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,648</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27604234</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ah, for -!” she exclaimed, jumping until she was almost level with the lamp dangling from the ceiling. She whirled around, and there, on the far edge of the corridor, leaning like some sort of deity trapped in a mortal body, was the boy.</p><p>He, for his most part, did not look even the least bit winded for breath, even for having run up the stairs incredibly fast.</p><p>Lucy narrowed her eyes, wondering whether this technique would work at all with the boy. She could hide away in the ceiling, but she'd already been seen, and now there was no doubt the Fittes people would not back down until they left here with at least one ghost captured. So scaring away it was.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lucy Carlyle/The Skull</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>green skulls and black smoke [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018146</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>could i have some tea with that sardonicism?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i was re reading lockwood and co, and so i was like 'hmm lemme see dem ficz' and so i went on my merry way and entered ao3, and then the locklyle tag and went 'pretty good pretty good' then went at the skullyle tab and I A G H</p><p>long story short, many skullyle fics will be coming from urs truly !! </p><p>Also man i just love the idea of lucy being the ghost and skull being the human hahahahhahah</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Lucy Carlyle had been minding her own business when they came.</p><p>Truthfully, her 'business' - as she so eloquently put it - consisted of her glaring at the drops slowly trailing down the window, pointedly ignoring the loud and obnoxious cackles of one Anthony Lockwood and one George Cubbins.</p><p>She had put her foot down once their jokes had gotten particularly idiotic, finding comfort and solace in one of the empty rooms, and refusing to abandon her stand.</p><p>(And, well, if she was being particularly stubborn and their jokes hadn't been <em>all</em> that stupid at all, then that was another thing.)</p><p>Presently, she was staring at the two droplets racing down the window. The one she was cheering on was losing. Lucy was just about to turn around and maybe, just <em>maybe</em>, join the other two once again, when a flash of light caught her attention, making her immediately press against the dirty glass to see what was happening. (They really needed to clean the windows, now that she thought about it.)</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Where there had been a light now was only darkness. She narrowed her eyes, knowing all too well what was happening. She opened her mouth and called out for Lockwood and George.</p><p>“<em>What</em>?” came the muffled response of one curly-haired man, who sounded suspiciously close to someone who was stifling a good laugh.</p><p>Lucy might've said something if not for the situation they were currently in. They'd no time for jokes.</p><p>Rolling her eyes, then shooting one last glance at the outside – where now everything lay questioningly still, <em>too</em> still – she pushed herself towards the ceiling, or the floor of the room George and Lockwood were currently in.</p><p>Her head popped up, right in the middle of their card game, prompting a - once again – poorly-concealed sniff of a giggle.</p><p>“They're here,” she hissed before any of them could say anything. Their subtle laughter ceased immediately.</p><p>Lockwood leaned forwards, as if that could make him see outside. Lucy pointedly ignored the floof of hair dangling in front of his dark eyes, if only not to indulge in the thoughts she'd some other time had.</p><p>“Again?” the man murmured, blinking in confusion, as if it were positively ludicrous that a ghost hunting agency'd want to inspect a peculiarly empty house.</p><p>One 'empty' house that'd driven away many – even some of the best – ghost-hunting agencies.</p><p>She pulled herself fully through the floor, sitting down next to George. Lucy nudged her head towards the window, pushing her lips together until they were one thin, white line.</p><p>“Which one will we use?” she asked, already cracking her knuckles. <em>The slamming of doors? The mysterious wail? The distant crying and clear slish-slashing of knives somewhere in the house? The scre- </em></p><p>“I don't think any of our past ones are going to work.” George interrupted her train of thought, actually looking out the window unlike Lockwood. He pushed up his glasses with an air of self-importance. “Look at their uniforms, they're the top of the top, the cream of the crop.”</p><p>Lucy peered outside as well, but could not make anything out except <em>maybe</em> the silhouettes of multiple people standing in front of their house. She furrowed her brows, and George snickered at her expression.</p><p>“I can't tell.” Lucy said, feeling her annoyance build up at the bemusement curling George's lips. “What do you mean ' top of the top'?”</p><p>“It's not my fault your sight is so poor, Lucy.” her blonde friend patted her shoulder mockingly, ducking at the punch aimed his way. “But I'll enlighten you,”</p><p>She leaned forwards until her nose was pressed against the dark class, squinting her eyes and still trying to make something out before George told her anything.</p><p>“They're from Fittes.” her friend said, and Lucy could almost <em>see</em> Lockwood perk up without even facing him. When she did, it was no surprise to see that Lockwood had almost stars in his eyes, figurative tail swinging from side to side.</p><p>“Fittes?” the curly-haired man smiled his full-watt smile, causing both Lucy and George to wince. If they weren't already dead then they'd have surely been blind.</p><p>“No,” Lucy barked out, glancing behind her shoulder almost nervously, even if she couldn't make anything out.</p><p>“I'm going to have to agree with Lucy on this one,” George said, pushing his round glasses up his nose. He, too, looked outside, but he no doubt could tell what was happening.</p><p>“But-” Lockwood's figurative tail drooped, smile dropping down to a slight pout that the man would deny had ever been there.</p><p>The three of them froze, shoulders jumping at the tell-tale sound of the front door being pushed open. They all exchanged wide-eyed stares, she and George slightly panicked, Lockwood excited.</p><p>It was in times like these that Lucy was glad she'd left her breath near her corpse. That would've surely been disadvantageous in this situation.</p><p>Somewhere down below the floorboards creaked loudly, and with it came the unceremonious stomp of boots and hushed voices.</p><p>Lucy rolled her eyes. Why would they bother keeping their voices down if they insisted being noisy in other aspects?</p><p>She slowly raised one warning finger towards Lockwood, wiggling it in his face to make sure he got it right. Lucy was almost sure he hadn't, but there was no time for all that. She'd speak to him after these uniform-clothed people sniffed around and saw <em>no one</em> was here.</p><p>Exchanging one last wide-eyed glance – Lucy had time to feel apprehensive about Lockwood's immovable smile – they each dashed towards another part of the room: Lucy towards the right, George towards the left, and Lockwood towards the ceiling.</p><p>They'd arranged their hideaways a long time ago, should someone enter their house. At first, when they were still relatively new ghosts their hiding space had been the ceiling, where no human could reach nor tell what was going on. But as multiple months passed, and no ghost-hunting agency, or thrill-seeking teen noticed them, they'd started relaxing, picking random rooms as hiding spots.</p><p>Perhaps, considering they were up against the best ghost-hunting agency there was yet, they should've retreated to their old hiding spots in the ceiling, safe and away from the Fittes people.</p><p>Lucy slapped her forehead, but did not turn around. It was too late to try and find the others, and judging by how many silhouettes she'd managed to make out, there was quite a number of people sent over. She couldn't risk being noticed. If it got too bad, she'd retreat to the ceiling and hope they both had enough common sense to do so too.</p><p>(George she'd no doubt would, but Anthony 'Shit Eating Grin' Lockwood she was not so sure about.)</p><p>Focusing back on the task at hand, she let the tiniest of smile curl her lips. Out of all the privileges that came with being dead the ability to walk through things had to be her favorite. The <em>whoosh</em> she could hear while going through multiple walls was an unparalleled delight, and it gave her a rush that not many things could.</p><p>And ghosts truly were lucky, as they not only could make themselves transparent, but they could also assume a more material form.</p><p>So being dead wasn't that bad at all, except for, you know, <em>being dead</em>.</p><p>Lucy had time to feel grumpy about the fact that she couldn't make herself fully invisible, (yes, she <em>could</em> be transparent, but her outline was still visible) before she reached the bedroom she'd claimed as a hiding spot.</p><p>She threw herself on the bed, crossing her arms under her head and staring at the peeling ceiling. Wow, they <em>really</em> needed to clean the house.</p><p>She gazed at the bookcase in the corner absentmindedly, frowning and trying to figure out whether she finished that novel she'd started along while ago.</p><p>Her eyes fell on the elegant violin on the desk, resting against the tall rain-splattered windows.</p><p>She slowly got to her feet, picking up the musical instrument and gazing down at it. Surely George wouldn't mind if she gave a bit of a pluck, would he? Running her fingers down the smooth surface, she propped the violin under her chin and decided that <em>no, there was no way the Fittes people would hear her, and so there'd be no problem</em> -</p><p>Her eyes were drawn to the outside, where the rain seemed to get heavier by the minute. Lucy felt her brows pull together in a frown, as the cogs in her brain slowly rumbled to a hesitant start.</p><p>Fittes had chosen this day especially, hadn't they? They were suspicious that there were ghosts in the house, and so they chose a day with rain so they wouldn't be heard if there <em>were</em>, indeed, otherworldly visitors.</p><p>Her reflection stared back at her, wide-eyed and with furrowed eyebrows. Lucy was glad she chose that exact moment to look out the window, otherwise she'd have missed the blur of color which dashed behind her through a wall and out another.</p><p>“Lock-” she hissed, whipping her head around and being met with only an empty room. She cursed quietly, placing the violin back down and stomping towards the door. Even her <em>stomps</em> were quiet.</p><p>She popped her head through the wall, glancing left and right to make sure there was no one on the corridor. When she was certain the hallway was empty, she pulled herself fully through giving a pat to her skirt (a nervous gesture she'd not rid herself of even in death).</p><p>Keeping her ears open, she slowly started tip-toeing around the hall, even if she wouldn't be making any noise at all even if she were tromping around.</p><p>“<em>Damn it, Lockwood,</em>” she whispered, whipping her head from one side to the other, searching for that familiar head of curly hair. “<em>Damn it, damn it, damn it </em>- “</p><p>Someone was whistling.</p><p>Lucy froze where she stood, tha hairs on her nape standing up at the eerie tune echoing around the hallway. It scared her to goosebumps, and she was dead!</p><p>It was both distant and close, and it gave her no sense of direction. She'd no way of knowing whether the owner of the whistle was close or far.</p><p>She cursed, legs still frozen to the ground. <em>Damn it</em>, she had to move before she was found!</p><p>Someone was rounding the corner.</p><p>It was too late.</p><p>“Who do we have here?” a voice said, that of a boy. It was weirdly both high and deep, and Lucy could make out the teasing lilt in his words. She clenched her fists, not turning around to face him. A bucket of ice-cold water had been dumped over her back.</p><p>She blinked rapidly in panic, trying to remember what the plan was if any of them were found. The boy was not saying anything either, which made her even more annoyed. She could feel the boy was both amused <em>and</em> feeling important.</p><p>Come to think of it, how had the boy even snuck up on her? She had <em>ghost</em> hearing, for Penelope Fittes' sake! She could hear through three sets of walls, and could distinctly make out the crunch one cookie made as it was bitten into by an agent two floors beneath.</p><p>
  <em>How in the world?</em>
</p><p>Lucy did not stay to ponder on it, nor on the plan she could not remember. Deciding this was the only course of action she could take, she lunged towards the wall, just as a gust of air was heard from behind her.</p><p>She didn't make it to the wall, for a glinting rapier blocked her way, causing her to hiss and retreat in pain as her skin came in contact with the iron.</p><p>She lunged backwards, following the line of the rapier, up the elegant handle gripped by elegant, pianist-like hands, and up to a smiling face.</p><p>Lucy recoiled at the boy's face. It was not a smile. More of a leer.</p><p>The boy had to be around seventeen years old, with an upturned nose, thin eyebrows, and spiky blonde hair vaguely reminding Lucy of both ice and fire at the same time. His eyes were big and obsidian, and looking in them made Lucy feel as if the boy knew everything about her. He was thin and rangly, yet standing as if <em>he</em> were the one who was walking on air. Both the pin on his coat and the leer on his face glinted like a sharp dagger.</p><p>All of this inspecting happened in one moment, for the next Lucy was already darting towards the ceiling in hopes of escaping. She did manage to get through, but only barely. The boy had been unearthly fast, and her smoking shoes were proof of her close brush with his rapier.</p><p>She muttered a profanity, brushing a hand through her short hair. She'd been <em>seen</em>, damn it.</p><p>“So, who's Lockwood?”</p><p>“Ah, for -!” she exclaimed, jumping until she was almost level with the lamp dangling from the ceiling. She whirled around, and there, on the far edge of the corridor, leaning like some sort of deity trapped in a mortal body, was the boy.</p><p>He, for his most part, did not look even the least bit winded for breath, even for having run up the stairs incredibly fast.</p><p>Lucy narrowed her eyes, wondering whether this technique would work at all with the boy. She could hide away in the ceiling, but she'd already been seen, and now there was no doubt the Fittes people would not back down until they left here with <em>at least </em>one ghost captured. So scaring away it was.</p><p>“...”, Lucy at least had the time to feel ridiculous before she got to wailing in what she hoped was an eerie way, raising her arms in front of her and slowly taking steps towards the boy, slightly swaying from side to side. She did not want to get closer to the boy in any way, but, well, you had to do what you had to do.</p><p>
  <em>Damn it, this was simply degrading!</em>
</p><p>At least the boy seemed somewhat frightened, for his posture had changed from leisurely to stiff. His leer had dropped off his face too. Encouraged by this, Lucy continued her slow approach to the boy, hoping he would be scared enough to turn around to get backup, offering her enough time to get away from his all-knowing eyes.</p><p>Speaking of which, those so-very-dark eyes had a glint in them Lucy could not figure out, but was not sure she wanted to either.</p><p>How they were going to get out of this mess, she did not know. But, for now, she had to get out of there and regroup with the others. They'd figure it out after.</p><p>There had to be about one meter left between her and the blonde boy, who had begun slightly cowering into himself. She had the time to feel bad, before taking another step.</p><p>Moment in which that darned leer made its way back onto the boy's face, and a set of iron chains was thrown around her in a circle. She could punch herself in the face. Scratch that, if she were alone, she <em>would've</em> punched herself in the face.</p><p>Any trace of fright had been wiped clean from the boy's posture, leaving him with a wide grin and equally wide eyes. Lucy had to commend his acting abilities; if he would’ve acted overly-frightened, she wouldn't have bought it.</p><p>She clenched her fists, watching as the boy slouched against the wall, hands in his pockets and grinning sardonically at her.</p><p>She muttered a profanity in his direction, not meant for him to hear. And he probably did not. Nevertheless, his ever-present grin widened.</p><p>He pushed himself off the wall and slowly started his trek towards her, moment in which she backed away as far as she could without burning her back off due to the iron chains.</p><p><br/>
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